Suffer In Scilence
by UnicornPopcorn14
Summary: Stan is acting weird one day, and Ford's determination is killing him to find out what's the deal. What's he gonna do? Well, he's gonna count on the surveillance cameras to show him things he wasn't ready for. Rated T for blood and violence. Cover image by jimsdeadbones.


**Yup guys, you guessed it, I'm a one of the many suckers for Stangst and Stan twins fluff; and so, being completely humble, I present you my first story for Gravity Falls. Yes, it's a one shot. A long, long one shot. And I didn't divide it because I simply didn't want to. Should I call it an AU? I'm pretty sure I should call it an AU. Pure hurt and angst, hope you like it!**

**P.S: You might see some changes ****occurring between the lines. Don't worry, because of the hesitant freak I am; I intend to edit, add, or delete several lines very frequently. So, don't be surprised if you reread the fic again and found some new conversations that weren't there.**

* * *

"Stan?"

…

"Stan?"

…

"Stanley!"

"Yeah, yeah! What-What do you want, Poindexter?!"

Ford eyed his twin in a confused expression. He was only passing by his brother, looking for some tools, until he spotted Stanley sitting in front of the cash register, just having a blank expression, looking at nothing. He appeared to be thinking about something, or just zoning out; Stanford guessed, but when the con-man turned around to look at him, his face was awful. He had bags underneath his eyes, and he overall looked pale. A zombie would be in a better state compared to him.

"Have you slept last night?" Stanford asked carefully, tilting his head a little bit.

Truth to be told, Ford was still mad at brother. He just couldn't forgive him after everything he'd put him through. Even if Stanley tried to bring him for thirty years, Ford still thought that he deserved it.

But being mad doesn't mean being cold.

He was worried about his brother.

Stan stared for a moment before rubbing an eye with the bottom of his palm, "Yeah, I slept last night, why do you ask?"

Ford frowned, "Really? You look awful, Stanley. Even a kid can tell that your eyes didn't even blink last night."

Stan held the bridge of his nose in irritation, "Ugh, Ford, 'cmon. It's just been two days since I got you back and you're already being a mother hen…"

Ford's frown deepened, ignoring the statement completely, "You're not going to bed, then?"

Stan smirked slightly, "No, unless you wish to run the shack today."

Ford rolled his eyes, "No, thank you. Anyway, where are the kids? I haven't seen them all day."

"They've probably gone treasure huntin' or something." Stan waved his hand carelessly while counting money.

Ford looked at the door then back at his brother, "Do you really trust these kids that much? You're not afraid they might get… hurt or something?"

Stan stopped counting, his face slightly turning into awareness, but soon returned its normal way to face his brother, a smirk planted on his lips, "You don't know these kids yet, Sixer. They're the best mystery twins I know." He turned to the money again, continuing, "Besides, Soos is with them. He cares for these kids better than I do."

Ford just stared at Stan in… he didn't know what expression he was making, pity? Sorrow? Confusion? Either way, he continued looking for the things he wanted, and when he was done, he returned to the basement.

**_Later…_**

Ford opened the secret door to the basement, making sure that no tourists were on the other side, and got outside. The third journal was with Dipper, and there was something specific he needed to do with it. So, with nothing more to do, he decided to wait till the kids came back.

Surprisingly, Stan wasn't there either.

The journalist cocked a confused eyebrow. Did Stan close the shack early today? It was still noon, so where was his brother? Maybe he decided to take his advice and sleep.

Ford strolled, looking at the merchandise. When nothing real caught his eye, he decided to look for his twin.

As he passed the TV room, he saw Stan dusting the room. Odd… He was still wearing his dress shirt and suit. Ford decided to ask Stan about the shack.

Approaching quietly, quiet enough to not be noticed until he touched his brother's shoulder, Ford spoke, "Stan, why did y-"

"GAAH!" Stan jerked at the sudden touch, putting a hand on the said shoulder after tucking it away from Ford, "Would you warn me before jump scaring me like that?!"

Ford was taken aback by the sudden outcome, stepping backwards, "Well, sorry, Stanley. Did you close the shack early today?"

Stan went back to dusting, "Yeah, you know, not much tourists come on Mondays."

"I see.." Ford said quietly, turning to get out, until he stopped. He glanced again at his brother's shoulder, trying to recall something. After many attempts, he gasped slightly, his mouth gaping apart. He stared at the shoulder for a while, until he whispered,

"Does it still hurt?"

Stan stopped, panic slightly showing on his face, "W-What?"

Ford stared at the rug beneath them, "The burn…"

Stan's mouth opened slightly. Relief kind of washing over him, then shook his head with a small smile, "Of course, not, Poindexter. That was thirty years ago."

"Then, why did you scream when I touched it?" Ford asked quietly.

Ford noticed Stan's eye flashing in surprise for a second (it was barely noticeable, but Ford just knows his brother too much), then quickly being averted in some other way, "Uh… I told you… Jump scare…"

Ford crossed his arm, smirking slightly, "You know, you remind me of Ma's face when she used to lie to everyone." He then frowned, serious, "What happened?"

Stan stepped back slightly at the sudden threaten, "Okay, okay. You got me, I fell down the stairs yesterday." He waved a hand.

"You're still lying, Stanley." Ford said with a sigh. "Now, come to think of it, I really woke up from some loud steps and bangs coming from here yesterday." Putting a hand on his chin, he tried to recall.

Until he heard Stan chuckle, making Ford turn to him, "You really need to lay your eyes off books for a while, Sixer." Stanley said casually, his attention returned to dusting, "They're startin' to make you imagine things…"

Ford huffed for a second, and left Stanley to… do what he was doing.

**_Some minutes later…_**

"What's taking the kids so long?" Stanford sighed, sitting down a chair he'd found in the middle of the TV room. He'd been pacing since he'd talked to his brother, and apparently Stan himself went down to do some other business. Although Ford really wanted to stop being nosy so much, he couldn't help but feel concerned for Stanley. Every time he brings up something about yesterday Stan just changes the subject. He's trying to avoid something, or hide something. Clearly, it wasn't just 'a fall on the stairs'. Heck, Stan looked like he hadn't slept all night. Then again, maybe it's true, but what would Stan be doing in some late hours?

And something else was bothering him. He'd inspected his brother's movements since they'd talked, because he had nothing to do, and what caught his attention was how Stan was using his limbs. Call him crazy, but even when Stan's right handed, he rarely used his right hand to do anything at all today. He also noticed that he didn't put much weight on his right foot, and would sit down too much. Now that called for an investigation.

Getting up, the scientist decided to head for the gift shop as a starter, see if something's suspicious there; then he was going to head to the stairs to investigate. He hoped that his brother was elsewhere, doing whatever to distract him long enough to let Ford find anything.

Besides, he could kill some time until Dipper and Mabel return.

Reaching the gift shop, after being glad that Stanley wasn't there, Ford looked around. He didn't know where to start from. Just some fake glued statues of some fantasy creatures; that wouldn't help him. The vending machine; that wouldn't help either. Some gift toys stacked neatly on the counter; no. A magazine stand…

Ford came closer to the said stand, narrowing his eyes a little. It was in its place and everything, but some holders were bent or dislocated. The magazines made the kinks hardly visible; maybe that's why Stan didn't mind it. Of course the detective wouldn't let that pass.

He took out a magazine from one of the bent holders, flipped through the pages to fine nothing suspicious. Taking out another magazine from the other dislocated holder, he found nothing either. It took a while, but after the fifth or the sixth one, Ford stumbled upon something horrifying.

On one of the pages, some dry red liquid was on it. Ford tried to persuade himself that it wasn't what he thought it was, but after smelling the scent, he was sure that it was blood. The whole page was covered in it, along with the other sided page. Ford's eyes widened slightly, it didn't seem too old, like it had been stained here for at least six hours ago.

Stanford stumbled slightly, then frowned. What the actual _hell_?! Whose blood was this? Was it Stanley's? How did it get here? How did Stan leave the magazine like this, to let anyone buy it? A kid could be horrified by this, even an adult.

Judging by the bumps in the magazine rack, he could be 50% sure that a heavy body was thrown on it. Maybe that explains the noise he woke up from yesterday. However, he didn't hear shouting, yelling, or any kind of scream.

The blood; he wasn't sure if it was Stan's, but either way, he needed to find out the complete truth, even if it meant forcing Stanley.

Again, he didn't care for him, he was just curious.

The six-fingered man tucked the magazine in his jacket, making sure that it wasn't visible. Maybe he would run tests on the blood to see if it belonged to his brother. It's not like he would leave Stanley after that, anyway.

But he was sure the Stanley wouldn't tell him the full truth, Ford just knows that. Ugh, if there was just a way to go back in time and watch the whole thing…

Ford's face turned into realization for a moment, whispering slowly, "Watch the whole thing…"

He frantically turned to the upper corner of the room, grinning widely after finding what he was glad to remember. The security camera, of course! How didn't he think of that before?! The camera he'd set off thirty years ago; an older version, of course; because he was too haunted by Bill and his deeds.

The happy moment just lasted a second, because Ford wasn't sure where the tapes would be. When he lived in the shack, he used to save the tapes in a box in the basement. However, he'd cleaned the whole basement yesterday (after Stan wrecked everything), and didn't find his box. Maybe Stan was saving it in another place? Then how's he going to ask him about-

_Ring_

Stanford whipped towards the door, to find the kids and Soos coming in. Well, 'coming in' wasn't the right term, it was like being 'dragged in'. Dipper's clothes were torn; Mabel's hair was a mess and filled with tree branches and leaves; while Soos's hat was missing and half of his shirt was ripped. As usual, when Dipper realized that Ford was standing right there next to the door, he immediately forgot the horrible state he was in.

"Great Uncle Ford, you're… here?" Dipper's tone turned from excited to confused.

"Oh, hey, Dipper." Ford hesitated, still couldn't face the fact that these kids were biologically related to him. It's just so strange to get in the portal, being young, single, having no other that his mother, father and a younger brother (Shermie); to get out old, everything different, having a nephew (and niece in law), then a grandniece and a grandnephew, and on top of all, having his long lost twin with him. Of course he's gonna take a while to get used to this new environment.  
"What happened to you?" Ford asked, pointing a finger on the younger Pines.

Dipper looked down at himself, but Mabel was to answer, "A long story, Grunkle Ford…" she said tiredly, resting her head on the counter along with Soos.

Stanford turned to Dipper, who agreed with his sister, nodding weakly. The said boy then looked up at his great-uncle, "So, why are you up here? You're looking for tools or something? I can help you!"

Ford smiled slightly before answering, "Well actually," he scratched the back of his neck, "I was looking for my third journal, and I figured that you must've taken it with you, Dipper."

Dipper stared for a while before chuckling, taking off the journal from his torn vest, "Heh, sorry, great-uncle Ford, I'm just used to it being with me all the time."

"I can confirm that!" Mabel stated weakly while raising a hand off the table.

"Thank you." Ford thanked him after taking back his journal, "Well, I guess I'm heading down now."

Dipper's face saddened slightly, "You don't want me to help you with anything?"

Ford realized the sudden mood change and averted his eyes, "Sorry, kid. But what I'm doing can be very dangerous."

Dipper swung a hand, "I've fought more dangerous monsters before! Mabel can even tell you. Mabel?" He turned to the said girl who was too exhausted to speak.

But Soos wasn't, yet, "I can totally… agree… with that, dude."

Stanford was about to persuade himself to let the kid come down with him, but he suddenly remembered what Stanley had told him two days ago, "I'm sorry, Dipper. You can't. It's for your own good."

Disappointment was clear in the twelve-year-old's face, "I understand, great-uncle Ford."

Stanford sadly strolled to the vending machine, but he suddenly stopped dead tracked, remembering something, "Hey, kids?"

Dipper, who was about to go sit next to his sister, stopped, "Yes?"

"Do you know where I can find the tapes of the surveillance camera?" He pointed at the said device.

Dipper and Mabel both bolted, and a quiver ran through both of them. Ford's eyes widened at the unexpected reaction, regretting asking that on instant. He got closer to the twins to inspect them, "Hey, did I- did I say something wrong?"

Mabel's eyes relaxed to form a sorrowful expression, and Dipper did the same, but actually answered, "No, it's-it's not your fault, great-uncle Ford. It's just that…" Dipper looked over to Mabel, to see her lowering her head even more, "…it's just a very bad memory, that's all." He smiled weakly.

"So you know where the tapes are?" Ford quirked an eyebrow.

"Yeah…" Mabel stated weakly, "They are hidden in Stan's private office. I think you're gonna need a key to enter it."

Ford's heart broke after hearing his niece sound so sad. Averting his eyes, he turned around, "Thanks, kids."

And the basement's door shut behind him.

Meanwhile, Soos was drooling on the counter, asleep.

**_Around 1AM…_**

Ford got out of the secret door, making sure that no one was around. The shack's lights were off, which meant that Stan was asleep.

"Perfect." He whispered.

Reaching the prohibited room, he took out something from his pocket. Thanks to his nerdy mechanics skills, he inspected the key-hole of Stan's office, and invented one that can fit right through in time-record.

As the door squeaked, Stanford was proud with his success. He quietly got inside, closed the door, and locked it with all three locks.

"Okay, if I was Stanley, where would I hide those surveillance tapes?" Ford asked himself.

He looked around the study. Under the shelves, between the books, in every drawer, but nothing came up. He should've really asked Dipper where they were exactly before heading downstairs. Ford sighed, taking a hold of a fake reindeer's horn, to stumble forward as the horn favored as a switch and bent down, "Woah!" Ford fell on the floor, and turned around to see a small TV, and a box filled with tapes underneath it. Ford smiled in success.

He got the box of tapes and looked at every date written, yet no tape was for yesterday (last week). It made sense that it wasn't in the player, today was Monday, but then, where did it go? He took out every tape, even stacked them in order, and he still couldn't find it. Ford huffed in irritation. His curiosity was killing him.

He tried to look around the study, maybe it fell from the box while Stan was putting it. He looked under the shelves, between the books, in every drawer; but again, nothing. It was as if Stan did it on purpose just to bug him. Ford sat on the ground, looking inside the trash can beside him. He didn't really expect anything important would be in it.

But then, he saw something black between the shreds of paper and tissues.

Ford quickly had his hopes up, digging his hand inside and taking out the black thing. Here it was! The tape of last week! But… it was broken?

'_Did Stanley do that?_' Ford thought in slight confusion, '_Oh, well. I knew the tools I carry with me all the time would come in handy._' And with that, he started fixing the tape.

After finally fixing it, '_Good as new!_' Ford quickly dug the tape inside the tape-player, and fast forward to the last day of the week:

**_2:39:00PM_****_  
_**_Stan was restocking the gifts in the gifts shop, getting ready for tourists to come visit._

Ford fast forward a little bit, trying to get to at least midnight or later. He stopped after pushing too much:

**_9:26:00PM_****_  
_**_No one was in the gift shop._

Ford guessed that everyone was watching TV at the time. He fast forward a little more:

**_12:01:00AM_****_  
_**_The gift shop was dark, no one was in it. However, a faint sound of the TV and some blue light reached the said room._

Still watching TV. Ford sighed, getting frustrated, that he'd pushed the fast forward button longer than he'd intended to:

**_5:20:00AM_****_  
_**_Stan was cleaning up, blood staining everything._

Ford gasped and quickly gone back, trying to get to the exact time where everything started. Luckily for him, he did:

**_3:34:00AM_****_  
_**_Stan was humming a quiet song while still in his suit, and appeared to be looking for something. "~Looking for my Fez~" he sung quietly, "~Where is my Fe- AH" Suddenly, he clasped a hand on his mouth, his eyes starting to water, screaming through his palms._

Ford worriedly looked at the screen, trying to figure out what happened to him.

_Stan quickly put a hand on his shoulder, grunting. He turned around to see no one, but his guard wasn't down yet._

"_You idiot, his heart is on the other side!" Said a man off the camera, clearly outside._

_Just as Stanley was about to make a step, an old fat man with an eye patch and a scar opened the door with his leg. Stan visibly grimaced; he didn't want to wake the kids and Ford up._

"_Who're you?" Stan yelled in a quiet tone, "Are you the one who shot me?!"_

SHOT ME?!

Ford was now shaking with both disgust and anger.

"_Oh, oh." The man sounded in a heavy accent, "Now, that's a shame, Stanley Pines. To not remember the one you owe money for forty years!"_

_Stan's back straightened with realization, "Wait a minute, Rico?"_

Rico?!

Who's Rico?

_Stan suddenly broke into laughter, heavy mocking laughter, "Oh my God, Rico! My old Pal! You know, I couldn't even recognize you from the weight you've gained, look at you!" The other man angrily looked down at himself, where Stan pointed, "But… But I gotta admit…" Stan was now panting while wiping a tear off his eye, "This new eye patch really suits you."_

"_You really think of it as a joke, eh, Stanley?" The man smirked evilly, suddenly snapping his fingers._

_Eight men broke through the door and the -thank God- open window. Not much noise was emerged from them. The eight men surrounded Stanley, cornering him._

_But Stan seemed anything but afraid, "Wow, you brought some new henchmen, too. Guys, if y'r gonna take my advice, this man over there is obsessed with owers!" Stan mockingly yelled, pointing at Rico, "Never take money from him!"_

Ford slightly winced after hearing what Stan said. He didn't understand how his brother could joke while being surrounded by grave danger. Didn't he know that he might get killed? Well, of course Stan isn't that dumb, but Ford still didn't like that tactic he was using. Even if he knew that Stan would end out alive, he still believes that some really bad things were about to get down.

_Rico growled loudly, "You really don't know what you're facing, do you? I'm here to kill you, Stanley! And after I do that with my bare hands, I am going to find every penny you got in this little hut of yours, and take back what you took from me!" The man snapped his fingers._

_Stanley's eyes widened in fear._

Ford's eyes widened as well, '_The kids_'

_The eight men ran to attack Stanley, and Stan quickly ducked and ran, holding his shoulder, "Try and catch me, suckers!" Stan ran off camera, while Rico stood there, preparing a knife and a gun. A silent gun._

Ford was furious that Stan ran off camera, he really wanted to see what was happening. He just heard somethings break and heavy footsteps, then Stan grunting.

"_You should try harder than that!" Stan's voice was barely a shout, trying to remain as quiet as possible._

The men were growling and screaming off camera, and Ford assumed that Stanley was kicking their butts right now…

_Suddenly, a heavy muffled scream came from non-other than Stanley._

"_We caught him, boss!" Some man shouted._

"_Let go of me you suck up idiots!" Stan yelled angrily._

_The men finally came to the gift shop, holding a struggling Stan by his limbs. Four men were catching his wrists, while other two caught him by the ankles; positioning him as if he was bound to a cross. Stan was trying to punch the life out of the men holding him, but his attempts were in vain._

Ford watched the screen in worry, hardly believing that all of this happened last night, and Stan didn't even call for help. The scientist was afraid that his shoulder wasn't the only thing that was going to end up in blood.

"_You really don't know when to quit, Stanley. Do you?" Rico said, getting closer to the con-man._

_Stan stopped struggling to talk, "You know I don't, you son of a gun!"_

_Rico laughed, "Well I have my ways to shut you up."_

_Abruptly, the one-eyed-man punched Stanley on his shoulder, causing the said man to bite his lip in order to not scream. Another punch was sent on the same place, and Stan's eyes watered. He was trying so hard to replace the scream with any kind of a low grunt, growl, hiss, or even biting his lip till it let out blood._

Ford's eyes widened in pure shock and horror, shaking his head, "NO!" He screamed, as if he was able to stop whatever was happening. He wished to get inside the screen and shoot the heck out of all the men who dared lay a finger on his younger brother. He wished to kill that Rico and let him die in his own puddle of blood. How dare they do that?

And the worst part, Stanley was trying so hard not to let out noise. It was understandable, since he didn't want the kids to wake up and be involved in this, but that was just sickening. Everything about this was sickening.

_The man kept punching Stan for three or four more times, clearly angry, "Why aren't you screaming?!" he shouted, "I want you to scream!" He sent out another harder punch, making Stanley hiss loudly._

_Rico was panting with exhaustion, rolling his fists together in anger. Suddenly, his face turned into realization, "Unless…" The man snapped his fingers, pointing to the men then the stairs._

Ford's heart leapt to his throat, holding the screen, furious. Not the kids!

_Stanley's expression turned into obvious fear, now struggling with full force, "STOP! There is no one there!" he yelled._

"_Oh, sure there isn't," Rico smirked evilly._

"_C'mon, Rico! You know I'm alone! I've always been!" Stan shouted while struggling, seeing the two men reaching the stairs._

_Just as one man was about to take a stair step, Stan's adrenaline kicked in, giving a head-butt to the closest man beside him, who let go while screaming. To the other men's surprise, Stanley whipped in an unnatural way, kicking one, making him let go, punching another, the same. Rico ran towards the con-man, trying to stop him from hurting his henchmen anymore, but Stan just Head-butted him too, causing blood to stream from the man's face._

_When Stan was free, he quickly dashed to the closest men to the kids, one man was punched violently in the face, the other was tripped by the con-man's leg, causing him to fall off the stairs and lose consciousness._

"_I've fought some undead jerks before, idiots!" Stan yelled, still punching the life out of one man until he fainted._

Stanford's jaw dropped and his eyes were the size of dinner plates. He couldn't even describe what he was seeing.

_Rico was approaching Stan with a knife, yelling. Stan quickly took notice and wore his brass-knuckles. He tried to punch Rico, but the old man swiftly held Stan's hand, taking off the knuckles and throwing it to the other side of the room. Stan gaped in surprise when Rico held him by the collar, and sent Stanley CRASHING on the magazine rack, along with the door. Some magazines fell open beside him._

Ford quickly took out the magazine in his coat, and found it in the screen just beside Stan.

_Stan's figure stiffed for a while, trying to process what happened. He really hit his head hard._

_When he finally recovered, Rico was an inch apart from him, pointing the silent gun at the con-man's head._

"_It was nice to meet you, Stanley," Rico said, about to pull the trigger._

"_Sorry to break it to you, but the feeling is one-sided," Stan swiftly tripped Rico, causing the gun to fire on the lamp, shredding it. Stan quickly stood up and ran for his knuckles, but Rico had had it. Yelling in infuriation, he rolled on the ground and aimed the gun,_

"Watch out!" Ford yelped in alert.

_Stan suddenly felt some killing pain in his ankle, falling on the ground only some inches away from his knuckles. He was about to scream, but he controlled himself, biting his hand in order to not let any sound. He reached for the knuckles and stood up -swaying slightly-, clearly fed up with the whole ordeal._

_The con-man jumped at the intruder, and they both rolled on the ground. The gun fell to the other corner of the room. Rico was still aiming on Stan's shoulder, punching it every now and then, but Stan only cared about killing the heck out of him. Rico's face was bleeding from every hole; his mouth, his nose, and the gash Stan gave him on the forehead. His cheeks were swollen now from the punching they received. But Stanley wasn't any better._

_He was barely holding himself, losing blood from both injuries; and Rico's punching in one of them wasn't really helping. His nose and mouth were letting out streams of blood, and his eyes seemed to water now that it was too much for him._

Ford just seemed frozen in place, watching every detail on the screen. He was gasping with every punch his brother received, wincing when his face was covered in blood, almost cried when he saw his younger brother's tears. He wished he could stop this. To stop the madness that was going on. It was like watching a movie and you want to save the hero who's going to die or get injured; the only difference was that this was reality.

_Rico pushed Stanley off him, quickly tried to grab something from his belt, yet Stan was determined to not let him go. The old man tried again, but Stan only spanked his hand away, sending another punch to Rico's face._

_Yet then somehow, Rico succeeded in reaching his belt, grabbing…_

"A knife?" Ford gasped, starting to panic as the intruder was about to swing his hand, "NO, STOP!" Ford was shaking the screen right now, "DON'T HURT HIM ANYMORE!"

But of course, his yells were only useless.

_The knife swung, landing on Stan's lower side, staining the door and some of the merchandise. The con-man didn't help it this time, screaming for mere six seconds, rolling on the ground away from the stabber. He coughed, letting out blood from his throat._

_But suddenly, hell broke loose._

_He got up, getting the knife out of him in an unnatural speed, and landed on Rico before the thief can even register what was going on. Stan was growling with anger, pinning a strong hand on the man's throat, while the other held the bloody knife. Rico tried to push the hand that was holding his wind pipe, but it only made Stanley to push harder, causing the thief to gag and choke._

"_It wasn't nice to meet you! It wasn't nice at all!" Stan yelled, hearing the man gasp for breath beneath him, "I'm gonna make sure you never step in here again! Forever away from me, forever away from MY FAMILY!" He let his hand go from Rico's throat._

_Rico yelled before getting breath, "You're losing your mind Stanley! You don't know what you're dealing with! You don't know what I'm capable of!"_

_Stan shut him by putting a hand on his mouth, "Well you'll be capable of nothing no more!"_

_Stan landed the knife on his heart, the muffled scream between his palms growing loud. The man seemed to resist violently, trying to ease the pain. Stan only landed the knife again, this time on his throat. Rico bit Stan's hand hard, trying to shred it, but Stan kept a firm hold, not letting his scream reach to anyone. The man was finally losing his consciousness, and Stan ended it with digging the knife through Rico's scull._

_The thief's eye rolled behind his head, finally letting his soul go._

_Stanley was panting and shaking, his adrenaline wearing off. He got away from the body, turning around and trying to take a step, but instead fell on the ground, fainting._

Ford covered his mouth, letting his tears roll down his face. He couldn't focus on the screen anymore, as his watery eyes were making everything blurry. If he'd just gone upstairs the moment he'd heard something, maybe none of this would've happened. His brother wouldn't suffer like this, the kids wouldn't be in danger -even danger they were oblivious about-. Maybe he could've helped his brother. Maybe he could've had a role in protecting the kids.

The journalist's hiccups and chokes were eased after hearing something coming from the speakers of the screen. Ford quickly tried to adjust his eyes and quiet himself to be able to see and hear.

_Stan groaned then coughed, getting up weakly. He coughed again, holding his side, then hissed._

"_Ow, ow. Okay, everything hurts…" Stan grunted._

_With nothing to hold on, he relied on himself to stand up, and when he finally succeeded, the con-man was about to fall on his face. He hopped on one leg and quickly reached the stairs, sitting on it. He looked around the gift shop, sighing disappointingly, "Well I should probably clean this mess up."_

_He eyed his side, letting his hand go to be horrified by how much blood he lost, "Shit." Stan winced, returning his hand to hold his side, "Okay, calm down, Stan. You've had worse than this."_

Stanley was always known to talk to himself too much, even when he's asleep. It was a fact Ford knew Stan never let go of since childhood. However, as much as Ford wished to know his brother more -now that they were way apart-, he was afraid that he would know something he wouldn't _need_ to know. Like Stan 'having worse than this'. What does that even mean? Did Stan get in a fight like this before? Did Stan get stabbed like this before? What exactly had Stan been through?

_Stan hopped on the stairs, heading upstairs._

Ford fast forward a bit, guessing that Stan was probably treating himself:

**_4:45:00AM_****_  
_**_Stan was downstairs with a tank top on and boxers. His shoulder, ankle, waist, and both hands were bandaged, and blood was staining each white fabric. He was trying to hide the bodies first, so he started with Rico._

_Stan groaned while trying to hold on the dead intruder, "What have you been eating up all those years?"_

_Since the said thief was over-weighed, it was hard to carry him, but after many attempts, Stan decided to drag him. Heading outside the shack, Stan stayed there for a while._

Now Ford was angry. Beyond furious. Why was Stan doing that to himself? He didn't even regain his colour yet, and he was pale from losing so much blood. With such injuries, he should've been resting, not cleaning up and not staying up all night. Did he not care about his health, like, at all?

_Stan returned after 10 minutes, and dragged the remaining men out the door. Not all of them were dead, only some were unconscious. So, Stan headed out, and the sound of the engine of the Stan Moped was emerged._

Ford fast forward again:

**_5:19:00AM_****_  
_**_"Ugh, the only night I'm able to sleep in piece after thirty years, becomes my worst night ever." Stan spoke to no one in general, wiping off some blood from the counter._

Ford winced slightly, feeling partly guilty. Sure, his brother mentioned numerous times that he'd spent day and night to bring his brother back, but Ford didn't acknowledge the fact that Stan was practically not sleeping all this time until now. And since these incidents were based in yesterday, which was a day after Ford was back, this meant that it was really the first night in thirty years that Stan would've been able to finally sleep in and dream.

Ford sighed, wanting to fast forward in order to not hear his brother talk to himself anymore:

**_5:36:00AM_****_  
_**_Stan was now wiping the door that had been covered in blood. He still didn't get to the magazine rack or the magazines on the floor, but he was about to finish with the door now. Suddenly stopping, Stan turned to the camera from the right upper corner of the room._

Ford felt his heart skip a beat, as if he'd been caught. It really looked as if Stan was gazing through his soul with his trademark grimace.

"_I shall get rid of that tape. I wouldn't want to remember that night anytime sooner or later." After staring up for a while, he continued wiping the door._

Now that explains the tape's condition and its weird spot.

Yet who could blame him?

_After finishing wiping the door, Stan started on the magazine display. He seemed to become more tired as he continued, because now, Stan was wiping with hazy blurry eyes, frantically rubbing them every once in a while. He sat down -minding his ankle- and brought the display down with him, wiping Rico's dirty blood that was stained all over. Absent mindedly, Stan took hold of the -bloody- magazines and shoved them in the holders, without taking a second glance on any of them. After finishing with the rack, the floor was next._

The scientist gazed over the screen, acknowledging Stanley's obvious exhaustion. He even stopped talking to himself anymore from how tired he was. The fight and lack of sleeping was really taking a toll on him.

_Stan was about to stand up, but suddenly, he fell with a loud hiss._

Ford's heart leapt to his throat, wishing to hop in the screen to go and help his brother, but what could he do with something that had already happened?

_Stan's hand curled into a fist, attempting to stand up again. The shack wasn't really in a horrible state right now. Most of the blood was wiped, the damaged merchandise was thrown away and everything was stacked in its normal place. "Hopefully the kids won't notice something…" Stan murmured quietly to himself, inspecting the gift shop, then looking over the clock, "Ugh, I bet Ford's gonna wake up right now. Better make him his coffee and head back to sleep… if that's even an option after what happened." He started strolling on one leg to the kitchen, then suddenly stopped, yelling, "UGH, SERIOUSLY? I didn't even find my fez after all this time?!" He grunted, and continued walking._

Ford's face saddened slightly, sighing in exhaustion, holding his nose-bridge.

_Stan returned with a cup of coffee, and rested it on the desk. Suddenly as if on cue, the basement's door opened, and Ford came out with a book in hand. Staring at it, Ford merely headed towards the counter without looking at his brother -who sat down as fast as he could-, and his word was a simple, "Morning."_

_Grabbing his cup of coffee, Ford couldn't see the exhaustion on his brother's face, and didn't pick the tiredness when he talked, "Mornin', Ford." Stan made it as if he was busy counting money, even though it was very early in the morning and no tourists came yet. He just needed to seem as natural as possible._

_Ford merely nodded his head before returning downstairs._

_Stan stared at the door in some sorrow, and decided to try getting some sleep upstairs._

The screen turned blank.

Ford just stared at the screen for a long while, trying to process and reprocess what he just saw. He had no words to describe… _that_. His lips were apart, his eyes were vast, and he was sweating from the suspension and tension he'd just encountered. His feelings were swinging from infuriation to sadness to guilt to regret, then back again. He really didn't know what kind of action he should be taking after seeing something like this. Go confront Stan? To do what, yell at him? Maybe. But maybe not. Ford didn't want to make things worse, and didn't want to push him. Yet again, Stan was making a very big mistake for hiding something like this. From the kids it was understandable, but from his brother? Now that wasn't.

All of a sudden, infuriation took the major part, and Ford decided to take actions _right now_. He didn't care if his brother was sleeping, he needed to talk to him, or Ford himself wouldn't be allowed to sleep for the next four hours.

An idea popped in his head, and a frown crossed his face. Maybe that would make his brother spill the beans. Ford got outside the study, but instead of heading to the basement, he headed to the second floor, taking a right to be in front of a specific door.

**_Around 3AM…_**

Stan drowsily opened his eyes, a chill kicking him to consciousness. With blurry eyes, he tried to look around his room… but… this wasn't his room? He looked down, to see himself sitting on a brown chair. Looking around again, he realized that the room was pitch-black, except for the strong light that was hitting his face. He groaned, deciding to stand up, but the moment he moved his hand, he realized that he couldn't. His hands were tied up behind the chair.

Trying to struggle his hands between the rough ropes, Stan kept groaning. His first idea that came to his head was being kidnapped, "Oh, c'mon! Two nights in one week is difficult, Lord!" He scolded, looking upwards as if talking to God.

"What the frick is this place?" He tried to acknowledge the room by squinting his eyes, but the light directed to his face wasn't really helping, and was just making everything else black.

"Good thing I slept wearing my suit… at least I look decent for that whoever…" He sighed.

Stan had slept with his suit on for several reasons; the first was to hide the bandages. Yeah, the kids rarely get in, but he was afraid that Mabel would leave a note, or Ford or Dipper would come in looking for something; so, taking considerations was the best option, and he kept the bandages hidden.

The second, he was exhausted to even take his suit off. He didn't get much sleep last night. Even when he tried, he kept on thinking about the blood in his hands, how he killed off his enemy, and the last second he saved the kids in. His mind kept picturing different consequences, and kept asking itself, 'what if…' like, a hundred times. And when he_ really_ slept, nightmares were to take over. So he really needed sleep, and was pretty lazy to take anything off.

Yet, here he was, tied to a chair, and who knows how far away from home?

Stan huffed, "What time is it? I hope it's not noon, or the kids are gonna go looking for me…" He attempted to struggle again at the thought, getting frustrated.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps coming from behind the light, and Stan squinted his eyes in order to acknowledge the figure. Who knows? Maybe that's one of his many old friends that want to get rid of him. He should be ready.

But, much to his surprise, when the figure came to the light, he saw non-other than…

"Ford?" Stan's back straightened in slight surprise, then relaxed, "Oh, Ford it's you. Are you here to save me?" Stan was kind of confused about the whole thing, but he could ask questions later.

However, Ford only said in a dry tone, "There's no need to save you. We're in the basement and it's nearly four in the morning. Now..." Ford got closer, upon seeing his brother's perplexed expression, "What happened last night?" He crossed his arms, his pupils hidden from the light reflecting his glasses.

Stan raised an eyebrow, "Who?"

"I ask, you answer." Ford's tone was turning threatening.

"Uh, okay, that's weird." Stan frowned, "What's going on? Are you making some kind of an inquiry here?"

"Yes." Ford said simply.

"Okay then. Nothing happened last night"

Ford didn't answer. Instead, he approached the younger twin, and began unbuttoning his suit.

Stanley watched, perplexed, "You're… undressing me?"

Ford didn't reply.

"Ford, you're freaking me out. Can you at least answer me?" Stan pleaded.

Ford said nothing, getting the suit off his brother, then starting unbuttoning the dress shirt.

"Woah, get back to your senses, bro!" Stan said, freaking out, "You're better than this!"

Silence.

"Great, my brother's gone nuts!" The con-man rolled his eyes, "I believe staring at books finally took a toll on you, Poindexter."

When Ford finished unbuttoning the dress shirt, he took it off Stanley. He then got on one knee, tucking the tip of his pants, exposing the injured ankle.

Ford got up and pointed to the bandages with one of his twelve fingers, "Care to explain?"

Stan's face became blank, "U-Uh… how did you…" He suddenly paused, "Wait a minute, you undressed me in my sleep?!"

"Did you stitch them?"

Stan looked somewhere before answering, "N-no?"

Ford's hand rolled into a fist, "Why? You don't know you can get an infection?" his tone was showing clear anger.

"I-I…"

"And who's that Rico?" Ford stepped closer.

Now Stan shuddered, "Now this's gettin' freaky. You got some psychic powers or somethin'? How did you-"

Ford put both hands on the chair's arms, leaning closer to be face to face with Stan, "I have my ways, Stanley. Now, who's Rico and why did he want to kill you?!"

Stan stared, too shocked to answer.

"What, too hard? The one you murdered last night! Who was he?!" Ford was beginning to lose patience.

Stan shivered, taken aback by at his older brother's sudden attitude, and confused about the unexpected seer powers his twin got, "H-He's someone I owe from a long t-time..."

"With how much?!" Ford yelled, kneeling closer.

Stan himself leaned back, "I-I don't remember, but I know that it was a load of money..."

"And that gives him the right to barge in here and try to kill you?!"

Stan silenced.

"ANSWER ME!"

Stan gave up, he was too frightened to answer, "L-Look, Ford, I can answer you. But please drop that act, it's scaring me."

Ford held his breath for a moment, then sighed heavily, leaning back and holding his nose-bridge, his pupils no longer hidden behind his glasses, "Sorry Stanley. I'm just… very, _very _mad at you. Like, are you crazy?! How can you hide something like this from me?!"

Stan was out of it for a moment, staring at Ford as if trying to process the whole situation, until he frowned, "Listen, Ford. I don't know how you knew, but I have my reasons. The first is that I was sure that you'll never care!"

Ford paused, shock lingering on his face, then a grimace, "Not care? NOT CARE?! Do you have any idea what you're sayi-"

"Yes, I have. You've never even looked at me since I got you back! Whenever I start some conversation or action with you, you just shove it back to my face! So, what was it that I'm gonna tell you?! 'Hey Ford, I got attacked yesterday by my old prison buddy Rico'? What were you going to do then, huh?! Patch up my booboos or somethin'?"

"This is serious, Stanley-"

"And I'm being serious! Why do you think I never called for your help? To keep you safe? Heck, you survived and travelled through dimensions, Ford; I knew you could've handled yourself, even better than I did. The only reason I never called for you was because you wouldn't even bother to get up from your desk!"

Ford was offended by what he was hearing, "You really think I'm _that_ cruel, Stanley?! You really think I'm that cold to leave you like this just because I'm mad at you for destroying a science project FORTY YEARS AGO?!"

Stan closed his eyes, "You already did, Stanford. Just forty years ago…"

Ford paused, letting the words sink in faster than intended. He was right. Stan was right, unfortunately.

The con-man sighed heavily, getting tired, "Look, bro. I know you hate me, and I don't blame you. I would've hated me either. I'm just trying my best to keep the family I got alive. Even if you don't want me as a family member, I don't care. I've got kids I need to protect here. Just let me handle my enemies on my own, just as you handled yours."

Ford forgot the second part of the speech entirely, "Of course I want you as a family member, Stan! You're my twin brother. We've gone heck and back together! How wouldn't I consider you?"

"Your twin brother, yeah. The one who cost you your dream school, the one who pushed you into the portal, the same one who ruined your life, isn't he? But you never mentioned that he's the one who stood up to your bullies. You never considered that the science project deal was an accident. You never appreciated that he was restlessly trying to get you back for thirty years. And what did he get in the end? A punch in the face…" Stan's eyes started to water, and he wished that he had his hands at the moment. He was desperately trying not to cry in front of his brother, "A-Admit it, Ford. You just see me as the one who destroyed your life, nothing more!"

"Stanley…" Ford whispered, tears starting to form in his own eyes.

Stan ignored him completely, "B-But who can blame you, Stanford? I'm just a liar and a burden in everyone's lives. Wh-Who would need someone like me?! You know I never blamed Pa for throwing me out? Because I've always believed that he was right. That I'm an idiot who can't even accomplish some simple stuff on his own. And I believe the family I still have is starting to think the same. Dipper doesn't even trust me anymore. Mabel's afraid that she might turn out to be like me, alone, without her twin brother. And you…" Stan eyed his twin, his tears finally rolling down his face, "I still feel that you're not back to me, Stanford…" Stan lowered his head, getting into a sobbing fit.

Ford covered his mouth, letting his tears fall down at the sight of his brother and the words he'd just said. Did his younger twin really felt that useless? Did he really believe that he's completely worthless? Is that why he never cared for his health? Is that what he meant by 'having worse than this'? Ford's mind began spinning, unable to accept this anymore. He needed to get this belief out of his brother's head. He needed him to understand that he's the most caring, smartest, bravest person he knew.

Ford stumbled forward, fell on his knees, and all what he did was a simple gesture…

He embraced Stanley, hugging him tight; letting his tears stain Stan's shoulder.

Stan stopped, looking down at Ford, wishing to have his hands just to rub his watery eyes. With nothing to do, he tried blinking them away, "H-Hey, Ford. Are you okay?"

Ford hiccupped, "I'm sorry, Stanley! I'm so sorry."

Stan's air retreated in his lungs, "For wh-what?"

"For-For not realizing sooner the pain you're in. For being a selfish jerk towards you. For making you suffer in silence and do nothing about it. I-I care, Stanley. I care very much. You're my brother. Who could leave his brother to die before some horrible jerks who seek revenge from him?!"

Ford felt his own shoulder being wet, hearing his brother hiccup and sob while talking, "Don't sa-y that, P-Poindexter. I've put you through hell myself. You shouldn't forgive me for anything. I myself can't even forgive me till this day."

"Well I've put you through more, and I mean emotionally. Stop beating yourself for what happened in the past, Stanley. Just let it go. Whatever we go, we go together from now on."

"Y-You mean it?"

"Affirmative. But you shall promise me; no hiding stuff like this ever again._ Especially_ getting in a fight with a crazy murderer you owe for thirty years who seeks revenge and tries to kill you."

Stan paused for a second, smiling slightly, "Eh, it's not like it's the first time someone tries to kill me…"

That was replied by a light punch on the injured shoulder.

"Ow, okay, I'm sorry. I had to say it." He chuckled.

Ford's own chuckles sounded.

Stan sniffed, tears still spilling from his eyes.

"Hey, Stan? Are you crying?" Ford teased with a smile.

"W-What?! Of course not, you idiot." He sniffed again, "Now if you'd please untie me. I have some dust in my eyes I need to remove."

Ford chuckled for the second time, letting his brother go to untie him. After Stan was free, "So, was this some kind of a role-play or something? Because I don't get the whole inquiry thing."

Ford snickered, "I tended to use the aggressive side, because I know that it _always_ works."

Stan rolled his eyes, "I hate that you know me too much..."

Ford smiled, then stated seriously, "I need to stitch the wounds."

"Oh, c'mon! Give me a break, Poindexter! These things hurt like freakin' hell!"

Ford ignored him and began strolling to get the aid kit, until Stan stopped him with a question.

"Hey, aren't you gonna tell me how you knew about yesterday?"

Ford smirked, "I told you, Stanley. I have my ways."

**_From a hidden corner,_**

"Squeeeeee! They hugged it out!"

"I'm surprised about that myself. Thought they'd take a month to make out their differences or something…"

"Oh, c'mon, Dipper. This should call for a surprise party tomorrow morning!"

"*chuckle* Well, why do you think we're hiding, dumb-dumb? To not get caught. That would simply bust the whole thing."

"Pff, I'm sure they'll never figure it out."

* * *

**Thank you for readin'! Wooh, I must say, this took a long time. I'm sorry that it's super long, but I'm really lazy to divide it an' all. Hope you review!**


End file.
